


Claustrophobia

by tiredfnaftheorist



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Asphyxiation, FFPS, Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator | Five Nights at Freddy's 6, Strangulation, disassociating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredfnaftheorist/pseuds/tiredfnaftheorist
Summary: This is a oneshot following the events described by @adobe-outdesign in their Bad End AU for FFPS. This isn’t canon to that AU unless they say otherwise, it’s just my own take on one of the events in that AU.Trigger Warning for: Character Death, Asphyxiation, Strangulation, and Disassociating. (Please be careful, this is meant to be horror, as amateur horror as it is)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Claustrophobia

The first thing that felt wrong was breathing. The breaths sounded too shallow and quick, like all the air simply vanished, and he couldn’t feel his chest rising or falling. The second was sight. His vision had never been particularly horrible, but it was never particularly good either. Colors were too vivid for the slivers of moonlight that streamed through the window.

Processing these realizations took a few seconds. His already raspy and ragged breathing seemed to get faster, but it was hard to tell. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_.

He couldn’t feel anything else, save a constant pressure around his throat. He tried to move his neck to breathe better, but he could barely move a few inches. Besides the inability to breathe properly, there was nothing to feel at all, no warmth or cold, nothing to grab or hold, not even a floor or wall, just a feeling of emptiness.

This time there was movement, though it was slight. He was shaking, though it was out of his ability to control. Henry tried to close his eyes, and thankfully, everything went dark again. 

It was easier to think when he could block out stimuli. Being disturbed by a majority of high sensory input was aggravating, to say the least, and remarkably he still had no clear solution to it.

It was odd, the lack of being able to feel through touch, like floating in air. There was nothing at all. Just focusing the ambiance of rain along with the pitch back darkness helped. 

For a moment he just listened to the soft droplets of rain hitting a metal roof, lost in that empty abyss of a feeling of nothingness. Than his mind started wandering.

_Why am I here?_

Henry’s memory was selective. Most of his clearest memories were of things he wished he could forget, save for a few moments. Bits and pieces got jumbled, either because of age or his memory simply being that unreliable all along. Most were simple and small, the scent of fresh brewed coffee beans his Madre had adored, the meeting of his wife, the first time he held Charlotte and Samuel, and various instances of doing pointless and reckless tasks to earn a friend’s respect.

_Focus._

What was the last thing he could remember? Was there a person nearby? What was the date?

_Time._

_The clock was blinking bright numbers: 3:48 AM. I was clocking in late again. I rarely check the time, it’s pointless a majority of the time. Why did I? I was drinking coffee, though it tasted horrible, every Fazbear’s location only ever has instant mix for some unholy reason. I needed to be awake for the kid. The kid. The kid was working on the terminal, and I was there because… because I sent him a file through it. An important file, I couldn’t let it be seen by anyone, without being sure there were no more consequences._

_Michael needed it because we were working together. He’s a good kid. Nice boy, though he’s rather quiet and somewhat hostile though I hardly blame him. He deserved better. He deserved to understand what happened to him, even if it’s dangerous. That’s why I gave him a key… no, not a key? It was a file._

_I was watching the system, the vents, partially for Michael, partially testing to see if my creation was working. But something was missing. I was trying to find it, the fourth dot, when the door behind creaked. I should’ve played the audio lures. It was 4:00 AM. No employees present, not another soul in sight. Then… we talked. I don’t understand how nor why it was so important. What was it we spoke about?_

Henry tried to picture the decaying corpse inside the suit, but it wasn’t a pleasant image. There was nothing underneath those eyes, just a husk of a man long dead. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what remained was even human. He couldn’t recall it’s exact words, but it probably ranged from mockery to threats.

He did remember how it had ended.

_“That really is a shame,” The animatronic said, setting down the picture it was inspecting. And then it lunged forward._

_Henry ducked towards his desk, when he was grabbed by the ankle. He frantically reached out towards the taser on the edge before gripping it in his fingers, when he was jerked backwards and it tumbled on the ground a few feet away._

_He kicked back against the animatronics chest, and in turn it tightened it’s grip on his leg, it’s sharpened claws digging into his skin. He yelped, and kicked back again against it’s head, and this time, it let go._

_Henry crawled towards the taser frantically, and grabbed it a moment before he was grabbed from behind by the leg again. He switched the on button and swatted it back towards the animatronic, before it grabbed his arm. He strained to push the sparking taser back to it’s chest, the corpse’s face illuminated by a crackle of light. It tightened it’s grip on his arm and jerked it backwards._

_The crack of bone reverberated through the room, and he heard it before he felt it. Spots danced in his eyes, as he cried out in pain and attempted another weak kick towards the corpse, but it now held him by the neck. It seemed amused by his efforts._

_He reached up to pry it’s hand off, but it the amalgamation of bone, steel, and whatever other materials it was made from held tight. He refused to scream, he kept clawing at it’s arm and kicking at it with his non-bleeding leg._

_It finally met his eyes, and for a moment, just stared. Then it clenched it’s hand around his throat._

_And it squeezed._

Henry’s vision snapped back to the workshop. He did not remember even closing his eyes. His raspy breaths had gotten more frantic, and the slight shaking had escalated to convulsing. He couldn’t control it all. There was no control he held at all, anymore. All he could feel was the crushing force of bony hands on his throat, digging into his skin and squeezing the air out of his lungs.

He tried to stand again, but all he managed to do was wobble forward an inch or two. He tried to reach up to press against whatever it was he was leaning against, and instead he heard the screech of metal grinding on concrete as he jerked backwards.

The clang of metal on metal echoed throughout the room as he fell backwards, sliding up against the wall and onto the floor with a ear-splitting screech. He laid there for a moment, and the moonlight cast a silver shine onto something in front of him on the floor.

It was made of a slightly rusty metal. It’s arms were supposed to be extended outwards, but instead they shook uselessly at its sides. The left hand was more of a large blade than a hand, and was coated in either blood or rust, perhaps both. He suspected that if he were too look, it would have a chest similar to a misshapen rib cage, much like an endo-skeleton if it had no wires, cords, or any sort of circulation beyond a pulley system.

It was a rushed scrap heap that didn’t even have the fortune to be hidden with painted plastic casing or coarse fur, one that was supposed to never see the light of day.

It tilted it’s head up towards the rain soaked windows of his dusty workshop. The face cast on the window by the moonlight was a hastily crafted mold that was more of a series of bumps rather than an actual face. It had no eyes, just two empty pieces of casing where eyes should’ve been. It did not matter. He saw clearly.

There was no call for help, no pleading, nothing.

All that there was, was the rusty clanging of his metal limbs scraping against the concrete floor, the steady and calm patter of the rain on the metal roof, and the gasps for air of a dead man.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot, I'll likely not add anything to this AU unless sudden inspiration strikes, to be honest I'm a little ashamed of how edgy this is compared to most of my other work, I did a little editing when I finally decided to upload here to hopefully make it better but I'm still just kind of ehhhh towards it. 
> 
> If you made it this far and somehow got emotionally invested, don't worry, things only go downhill for everyone in this AU from here.


End file.
